


Kinktober: Language Kink

by moonmoth (greyvvardenfell)



Series: Kinktober 2019 [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Coming In Pants, F/M, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/moonmoth
Summary: Julian tries out some of his several fluent languages on Reyja.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Character(s)
Series: Kinktober 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697680
Kudos: 29





	Kinktober: Language Kink

Julian’s lips don’t leave my skin from the moment he catches me at the top of the stairs until we fall into bed together, laughing. Even after that, he straddles my hips just long enough to look me over with blissful adoration before leaning back down for more. He nibbles at my collarbones and traces the folds of my ear with his tongue, laughter quickly abandoned in favor of deep, desperate groans and ragged breaths, inhaling the scent of my hair.

He pulls away only for a moment to tear his shirt off, then removes mine with a tenderness that stands in stark contrast to the fervor of his mouth. His hands swiftly return to my sides, kneading the rolls of fat and flesh before skating lower to dip beneath the waistband of my leggings. He has to get off me to slide them down my legs, but he makes a show of it, planting kisses along my thighs and knees and shins until I’m free of them, laid bare.

After he casts my clothing aside, he lingers at the foot of the bed, surveying me through hooded eyes as he palms himself through his pants. I can’t help but bask in his open admiration until his absence proves too much. Beckoning him to return to me, I arch my spine and draw my fingers up the side of my leg. He’s only too eager to obey, as if the bulge at his crotch didn’t tell me that already.

He settles back in on top of me after retracing his path up my body, a sex-drunk grin already lighting up his eyes, and laves his tongue over my sternum. “Reyja,” he breathes, voice husky and dark with desire. “I can’t wait anymore, darling, please! Can I touch you?”

With his head on my chest, his gorgeous gray eyes peering up at me from their fields of red and white as though I hold the answer to every question he could ever ask, how can I not say yes? Besides, his hand is already creeping over my stomach like he thinks I won’t be able to feel the delicate caress of his long, graceful fingers. Those fingers yearn to bury themselves in me, make me feel as though there’s nothing outside this bedroom, reduce me to gasping lungs and quivering muscles, a racing heart and wave upon wave of exhilaration, like I’m but a pebble on a beach. Really, why would I refuse?

“You can always touch me, Juley,” I tell him, sifting through his hair until I have enough of a handful that I can pull him up for a proper kiss. He moans into it. I can feel his erection pulse against my leg and I wonder if he’ll cum in his pants before he finishes getting me off. That thought alone is enough to make me wet; that I could be so alluring he can’t hold himself back has helped me orgasm on my own more than once. He knows that. I wonder if that’s why he isn’t trying to hide it.

His fingers drift through the coarse hair between my legs, tugging lightly just to make me squirm. He kisses his way back down my neck, focusing on my sensitive collarbones and shoulder muscles, and I close my eyes in preparation for the burst of ecstasy I know is coming.

“I need to make you feel good, my love,” he murmurs. I can feel his teeth scrape against my skin as he speaks. “You deserve every pleasure I can offer and more.”

“Tell me…”

Julian lifts himself onto his side. “I will. I will! Oh, you should be worshipped, darling, like the first sunrise in Nevivon after a long, dark summer. The way your—” He shifts into the throaty, rolling syllables of Neviv as he parts my sex. His middle and ring fingers find my clit immediately, rubbing it, toying with it, drawing circles around it. I inhale sharply even at the slow touches and he chuckles in the midst of his fanciful description, but lets it go, only bumping his nose into my jaw to say that my reaction didn’t go unnoticed.

He doesn’t linger long before his hand is moving again, cupping all of me and squeezing as if to lay his claim. But in doing so, he brushes against my cunt and coats his fingertips, startling him back into Vesuvian.

“My god, Rey, you’re soaked!”

“Mmm, can you blame me?” I say, parting my knees for him. “Your hands, your voice, just… you? You’re a cocktail of pheromones, Jujubee.”

He trembles against me, warmed by my praise. But he doesn’t let me turn the tables so easily, silencing me with another kiss. “Do you like the Neviv, or should I continue in something else? Milovanese? Atapran? Prakran?”

One of his fingers is probing me gently. I have to stop myself from bucking into his hand. “How about Prakran?” I barely heard the other options, if I’m honest.

“Prakran it is.” He launches into another flurry of words, these as unlike Neviv as they are to Vesuvian, tumbling like a waterfall over a cliff. It’s a beautiful language, but I’m in no fit state to appreciate it when he finally plunges into me. His fingers are so long that he can reach the spot that drives me wild without difficulty. His wrist doesn’t even rest against my pelvis. And it never takes him long to find, with his hand or his cock. He adds another finger when I’m ready for it and I can no longer resist the urge to move with him.

Through the haze of my quickly-building orgasm, I can feel him rutting against my hip, his voice growing labored as he lets me fuck myself on his fingers. He pumps them within me, stroking the textured wall deep inside, the tendons on his forearm standing out. When he changes the motion to side-to-side and adds his thumb rubbing tight, quick circles around my clit, I convulse, contracting around him as I near my climax.

Julian abandons Prakran, still panting, when I release a squealing moan. “Yes, darling, yes! Cum for me!” He presses harder, his own thrusts more sporadic. He, too, must be getting close.

The world begins to retreat. Only he is real, his touch and his breath and the warmth of his bare chest against mine. The wet marks he left along my neck and shoulders are growing cold from lack of attention, but I can feel love bites stinging beneath them and I mewl again, a noise I will never admit to making anywhere outside this room.

Julian’s voice reaches me as if from far away, a heated offering of words foreign but familiar. I know them. He taught them to me himself, as ammunition to use against him. I’m still not sure I have the Neviv inflection right, or if I ever will, but the words I know: cum for me.

So I do. I pin his arm between my thighs and orgasm with a primal cry, bowing back until the top of my head almost touches the pillows. I don’t think he was expecting me to climax so hard, because he follows rather abruptly, his hips stuttering against mine and his own sound of release strangled as it clashes with the stream of Neviv still leaving his mouth.

He seems reluctant to remove his hand when I let my legs fall open again. But he slides his fingers out nevertheless, after a moment or two, licking off the taste of me that clings to them and groaning happily. I’m good for little else but lying limp, chest heaving, until I somehow float back into myself. But Julian doesn’t seem to mind. He curls up against me once his hand is sufficiently clean and waits for me to break the post-orgasmic silence.

Our hearts pound in tandem until I can talk again. “Did you cum?” I already know the answer, but it makes me happy to hear him say it.

“Erm. Yes.”

I smile with my eyes still closed. “Good. I would’ve gotten you off too, of course, but you know how much I love it when you make a mess of your pants like that.”

“Careful, darling, or we’ll have even more of a mess on our hands,” he says, nuzzling my cheek.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Give me a few more minutes and we’ll find out.”


End file.
